In The End
by Nuttyginger
Summary: Once upon of time, all Bella had was a dream. Then Edward walked into her life. Now she has to chose between love and her dream. 'All's fair in love and war', except it really isn't and when her choice goes awry, she's left to pick up the pieces. ExB, AH Written with prompts from the PTB Writing Challenge 2013


**In The End**

Challenge Number/Title: 1. Rocky Horizon  
Date Posted: 1/12/13  
Fandom: Twilight  
Rating: M  
Genre: AH  
Content Descriptors: Drama, Romance  
Character Pairing: Edward and Bella

**Prologue - Was It Worth It?**

The land around me was rugged and barren. A few plants clung to life in the dry, harsh winds. It was nearing the middle of summer, and the land was baking. Usually, Syria was a fertile land, but here in the mountains, at this time of year, you could roast during the day and freeze at night depending on the cloud cover. In front of us was the last hike up a mountain that would take us up alongside the Homs Gap — right where I wanted to be.

"I think you should keep that on," my guide shouted behind me.

I pulled the Velcro straps at my shoulders after I'd undone the ones at my waist. The flack jacket fell to the sandy ground at my feet. My chest heaved at finally being free of the constricting, hot item. My sweat-sodden shirt clung to my body, chilling me now that it was exposed to the desert winds.

"It's too restricting. I can't climb if I'm wearing it."

"But, Ms. Bella, it could save your life."

I chuckled with a hint of sarcasm in my tone. "I think I still have a few of my nine lives left, Anas." He flashed me a look I'd become all too familiar with in the four months we'd been together on this mad journey. The language barrier was sometimes easy to overcome, but hand signals weren't going to help this time. "Cats?"

He shook his head, and I laughed again, less sarcastically.

"Cats have but one life, Ms. Bella."

Anas had been a teacher before the "Arab Spring" came to Syria. On our first meeting, a coffee shop in Damascus, a hundred miles south of us, he'd shown me a picture of his last class. Twenty smiling, ten-year-old faces, unaware that hell would be on their doorstep within days. Anas had fled when his brother had left to join the rebels. Now he made his living guiding journalists like me into the danger zones. Some to report, some to observe, and some to take photos so the world would know what went on behind the propaganda Bashar al-Assad had been pushing in the media.

Anas flinched as "pat-pat" of bullets sounded in the distance. It was amazing how quickly you became accustom to the sound of bullets and mortar shells. I still couldn't sleep though the night though. You never got used to nightmares that came from having watched people being slaughtered or the bodies that lined the streets after the army had retreated.

I flashed him a grin, shifting my backpack so that the attached tripod would stop digging into my spine. Slowly, I began to climb. Anas was right behind me, watching my back, just as he had all through this assignment. We had been climbing our way through the An-Nusayriyah Mountains for a week, carrying all we needed with us. The zig-zag route we had to take to avoid the government forces had taken us through many villages, not one of them untouched by the fighting. I took pictures of women dressed in black, wailing over fresh graves. These were the lucky ones; they had a body to bury.

My nails, what was left of them, were bloody and torn. The scrapes and cuts in my hands stung, but I was so nearly there, they faded into the background. If anything, the physical pain only solidified why I was here, echoing the emotional pain that had stung my heart since leaving Seattle.

Slowly. the skyline appeared above the mountain ridge. I was so close, I could taste it. This was the view that would net me what I'd been searching for since I'd received the Syria assignment six months ago – the perfect picture. I felt the memories pounding to escape the box I'd locked them away in. They couldn't come out now. If there was ever a chance we could be shot, it was now, so I needed my wits about me. Anas motioned for me to get down. After some adjustment of my heavy pack, I got down on my stomach and started to inch my away up and over the crest. He moved with me, my protective shadow.

"Stay here. I check it's safe for you."

I reached out to stop him, but he shook me off. _And they say I have a death wish_! I never lost sight of him as he crawled low, scouting out the area around us. Soon he was heading back.

"Okay, we are good. Most of the guns are way over there. Come, come."

I got up, still staying low but on my feet. There it was. Homs in all its scarred glory. I could see plumes of smoke rising from the ashes of what had been a beautiful, historic town. The constant rat-a-tat-tat of semi-automatic gunfire filled the air was much clearer than it had been at the foot of the climb. Occasional booms caused the ground to shake as mortars found their spot, or not in the vast majority of cases. Hitting schools, hospitals, or houses. To both sides, it didn't matter. All they cared about was driving the forces, be it Assad or rebel, out of Homs. One way or another, the town would be overtaken by one side. I'd heard the fractured reports, just like all journalists had, of the government-force led massacres that were taking place. Woman, children, men. Bodies lying out on the streets, left to rot where they fell. They all needed to see it

On top of the rocky outcrop, death and destruction as far as the eye could see, I rummaged in my backpack, pulling out a telescopic lens from its padded cocoon. This baby had cost me a pretty penny, but it was good for seeing nearly half a kilometre away. Positioning my eye over the viewer, I felt peace flood into my body. This was where I was meant to be. Home was now wherever I saw through this lens. I'd left my real home behind many months ago, and it wasn't waiting for to return.

As my camera clicked, I felt a presence by my side. I didn't need to look to know who it was, but I lowered my camera and turned slightly. It was the first time I'd seen him since I'd left our apartment that day in what seemed like forever ago.

"What are you doing? Do you want to die?" he shouted, but it was more like a whisper on the wind.

"Of course not," I muttered back softly. I couldn't have Anas thinking I'd totally lost my mind. He'd already figured I was pretty close to it.

"Then step back from the edge. Go back down the mountain."

"I can't. I have a job to do. The world has to see."

"Then let someone else do it," his apparation begged.

"No, it has to be me. I gave up so much. It has to be me."

"Please, Bella. I couldn't live knowing you're not in the world."

"You lived fine without me before, you'll be fine after."

"I can't live without _you. _Please!" he pleaded once more.

His image began to fade until he was nothing more than an outline, shimmering in the breeze.

"I can't," I said with finality before turning back to the scene and capturing more.

Finally, I finished. I'd gotten what I needed. The sun was just starting to descend out of the sky. Another day, another battle. We needed to get back down the peak to our camp before it got dark. You break a bone or fall out here, and you were as good as dead. Help wasn't coming. Torches made us vulnerable to sight so we relied on the daylight to show us the way. I packed away the lens and camera body before I stood fully to take a mental picture - one just for me.

I heard the bang echo around the valley we were on top of before I felt it. The first bullet whizzed past my ear, making a whooshing sound similar to the synthetic one you heard in movies.

"Get down, Ms. Bella," Anas shouted, but it was too late.

The second bullet found its mark, throwing me backward, off balance. The breath rushed out of my lungs as my back made contact with the hard ground. Pain ricocheted through me. My shoulder burned. There was a loud, strangled screaming sound echoing around us as Anas's hands flitted over my body, checking for injuries. Every jostle and movement made my body twist in agony. It was then I realized that the screaming was me.

As I lay on my back, staring up at the darkening sky, watching as stars slowly appeared, I thought this was it. My life didn't pass before my eyes, and there was no bright light to welcome me home. Instead, there was a question. Was it worth it? The edges of my vision began to fade, like my own sun was setting. The answer rang in my mind as clear as day.

No.

* * *

**And so a new story begins. This will be a full, multi chapter story made up from prompts from the PTB Writing Challenge 2013, so who knows where it will wander. I'll try to update as often as every week. It just depends on PTB and their wonderful betas.**

**Many thanks to PTB beta's HollettLA and Starpower31/Bella for their kind words and honesty.**


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